


I'm the last one that you'll ever remember

by Cirkne



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: F/M, M/M, Reincarnation AU, alex/angelica just kind of happen and its all happy, blood death and injury mentions, its a laurens/hamilton fic, kinda angsty but happy ending, lmao i am trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 19:54:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7282456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cirkne/pseuds/Cirkne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alexander remembers loving them before he remembers anything else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm the last one that you'll ever remember

Alexander remembers loving them before he remembers anything else. Everything around him is a feeling and he feels like he is waiting, longing for something he doesn't yet know. A beer bottle in front of him and his knuckles bloody and bruised, John says:

"I would die for you," And it all comes back at once. John is looking at him, showing his teeth, happy, drunk. Alexander closes his eyes and tries to breathe through the pain in his ribs and the ache in his chest. It makes sense to him now, why he's loved John since the day they first met, why he's wanted to kiss him even with his lips bloody. He's done it before, it's all muscle memory. He finally kisses John then and ignores the taste of beer in his mouth.

He kisses him often, presses him close enough to make sure he's real, stops him from getting into fights. John frowns at him and asks why he's so worried when he's no better and Alexander cannot tell him so he just kisses him and kisses him until John stops asking.

"I love you," John says. "I would do anything for you." Alexander frowns and pushes him away and tries not to think of how true it is.

"You don't mean that," He tells him but it's a lie and his hands shake until John takes them in his and tells him to calm down.

Alexander cannot sleep and he thinks of how John only ever loved him and how he loved so many others and he wonders if he will cheat on him in this life, wonders if it will make sense to John once he remembers. Alexander is not capable of giving his all to a person the way John gives his all to him. He leaves their bed for the comfort of a bar and ends up in the emergency room with a broken rib.

"Why are you doing this?" John asks, holding his hand, exhausted and yet wide awake.

"It's who I am," Alexander answers him, focuses his eyes on a dot on the wall. "You don't have to stay with me."

"You can't die just yet," John says, almost a joke. "I may not live to see your glory, but," He starts and stops. Alexander turns to look at him and John is looking back now, as if searching for something. "Oh," he says eventually.

"Oh," Alexander echoes. John lets go of his hand.

"How long have you known?" John asks awhile later, his voice quiet and strained, his hands twitch in his lap. "When you kissed me that night was it because you remembered?" Alexander doesn't want to answer but he nods, turns away from John again.

"I loved you then and everything now is just history repeating itself," He says and hopes John understands. They break up on their way back home, street lights illuminating the road, John's knuckles white on the steering wheel.

*

Alexander kisses Angelica in her kitchen, presses her to the counter and it all feels strange with her taller than him, her refusing to let him be in control, her being Angelica, the only person in the world that manages to hate and love him at the same time. He thinks of pulling away but her hand ends up in his hair, pressing him closer. Desperate, desperate. He's never seen Angelica like this.

She pushes him away herself, eventually.

"Did you have to do this in my kitchen?" She asks, pushes hair out of her face.

"You're never satisfied, are you?" He asks, a smile on his lips. She moves away from the counter, puts her lips on his again. He figures that means she remembers, presses his hands to her hips.

He writes poetry about her hair, about her half naked in the mornings, about how her lips taste at night, about the way she talks and the way she listens and how she knows everything about him. He writes and writes and writes and realizes he's standing in place, realizes she doesn't push him and he doesn't push her, realizes that when she asks, he doesn't leave the bed.

"Alexander," She says one evening, his lips on her neck, his hands on her thighs. "If I had known back then how weak you are capable of making me, I would have stopped yearning for you."

He pulls away to look at her, her hair in a pony tail, her eyes on him, her hands reaching for him. He thinks of how when he couldn't have her, she was his soulmate and of how now when he can, she doesn't feel like she is.

"Why are you saying this now?" He asks and she straightens suddenly, aware of what her words will mean for them.

"Eliza remembered," She says and wraps her fingers around his neck, pulls him in to kiss him again. She is kissing him goodbye.

*

Eliza, beautiful, kind Eliza, that has always been nothing but supportive, that has always known him almost as closely as Angelica did and still expected the best from him, Eliza that had pushed him to succeed, Eliza that knew when to tell him to stop.

Alexander writes her letters just like he did then. He takes her on dates and listens to her talk, he opens the door for her, he gives her his hand, he does everything he did then and yet she says no when he tries to kiss her.

"Eliza?" He asks but doesn't try again, watches her move away from him, reach for her key in her purse. She is so beautiful in the evening light, she is the one beautiful thing he managed to touch without breaking, she is the only person he didn't ruin with his own selfishness. If he is to be happy, it has to be with her. 

"You left my sister to be with me," She says, her words light and simple, her smile still the same on her lips. "Why?"

"That's how it's supposed to be," He tells her, in the same tone. "It's destiny, my love, my wife, my dear Eliza."

"Are you saying your destiny is repeating your mistakes?" She asks, reaches for his hand. He steps closer to her on instinct. "Alexander, I married you then because I loved you. I forgave you because I loved you. I made sure people knew about you because I loved you," She squeezes his hand. "And I love you now but I know what my life will be like if I let you into my life now the way I did then."

"I don't understand," He says, licks his lips, watches her hand in his, so perfect, right where it's supposed to be. She kisses his cheek and smiles and lets him go.

"I refuse to be helpless in this lifetime, Alexander," She says and turns away to unlock her door. He's not invited in.

*

He's supposed to find comfort in Maria but when he goes, she is a high school student and she doesn't remember him yet. God, had she been so young then too? He doesn't remember this now. Doesn't remember a lot of things when he thinks about it, doesn't remember much of her. Leaves. 

He has nowhere else to go, nowhere else to turn and he finds himself at Aaron's door in the middle of the night. He's been here before.

"Alexander?" Aaron asks, closing the door behind him, leaving the two of them in the dark.

"Aaron Burr, sir," Alexander answers because it's easy for him, tries to think of something else to say and comes up empty.

"Well it's the middle of the night," They're just repeating themselves. Aaron's arms are crossed at his chest and he's frowning down at Alexander. Eliza was right.

"Did you regret it?" Alexander asks, hurriedly before words from his past life spill from his lips. "After I died, I mean. Did you regret killing me?" Aaron watches him for a moment, tilts his head to decide, considers him.

"I don't remember," He admits. Alexander blinks, shifts in place, surprised. "I remember Theodosia and how I loved her, I remember our daughter being born, I remember losing her, I remember dying," This is the most Alexander has ever heard Aaron say at once. "But you, politics, all of the stuff that wasn't important? I don't remember much of it, just glimpses."

Alexander leaves him be and walks home avoiding street lights, avoiding places he could be seen. He remembers the letters. Remembers every word he's written to Eliza, to Angelica, to John. He remembers John drunk, agreeing with him in a bar. He remembers Angelica at the winter ball, her hand in his. He remembers Eliza's hands on his shoulders, her asking him to come back to bed.

He remembers his mother, remembers the storm, remembers having nothing. He remembers John pressed to him in the battlefield, remembers Phillip being born, remembers John dying, remembers Angelica leaving for London, remembers cheating on his wife, remembers the pain he brought her. 

He remembers being shot, remembers thinking of how he will see his mother and John, remembers the pain in his ribs, remembers Angelica and Eliza both by his side. Alexander remembers loving them and everything else fades.

*

John in a hospital bed. John high on pain medication. John with Lafayette by his side. John tired, smiling, saying:

"Didn't think you'd come."

"What happened to you?" Alexander asks, avoids looking at Lafayette, focuses his eyes on John's face, John's hair splayed on the pillow. Alexander used to love running his hands through it. Not then, but now.

"Bar fight," John answers, teeth showing, pride in his voice, hands squeezing the sheets.

"He's killing himself," Lafayette says. Cold, tired, almost like it's Alexander's fault. It might be. It is, probably.

"I'm not," John says, blinks, looks at Alexander, determination in his eyes, repeats: "I'm not. Alexander, you understand, Lafayette doesn't. It's all a coping mechanism. Pain and blood and, you know, everything."

"It's not coping if you end up with broken bones, John," Lafayette says, reaches for John's hand, squeezes it. "It won't help."

Except, it will, Alexander knows. They've been here before.

"It helped back then," Alexander says, takes a step closer, wants to touch John. Lafayette moves faster, stands in front of him.

"He died back then," Lafayette says, angry. Alexander doesn't remember them like this, fire in their eyes and every word an accusation of sorts. "At the age of twenty seven, Alexander," They say quieter as if John won't hear them now.

"Leave him alone, Lafayette," John says from behind them, head thrown up at the ceiling now, eyes closed shut, voice a lot more sober than it was moments ago. "It wasn't his fault."

"It might be this time," Lafayette answers, but steps away. Alexander moves closer to John, thinks of how much softer his lips feel in this life, of how he only got six years then.

"John," He says, reaches for his hand. "My dear, Lafayette is right. You can't keep doing this," He keeps his voice slow, quiet, soft. John pulls his hand away, glares at Alexander.

"Don't talk to me like I'm a child," He says, voice sharp, cold, suddenly, angry. John angry in a hospital bed, John telling him off for acting like he's fragile, John with broken bones and so much pride it makes Alexander feel like he's looking at himself. It's all the same.

"Of course," Alexander says and feels a smile tugging at his lips. Behind him, Lafayette closes the door on their way out.

*

It's all muscle memory. Angelica in John's living room, telling Hercules and Lafayette about the guy she's started seeing, her dress light green, barely covering her legs.

John shirtless in the kitchen, his hair tied back, bruises on his chest, the fridge door open.

Eliza at his door, lips pursed, eyebrow raised, telling him he has to leave his apartment once in awhile and no, going to John's does not count.

Aaron, his two month old daughter in his hands, smiling at him, him smiling back, half of his sandwich in Alexander's hands.

Hercules on his bed, arm thrown over his eyes, shirt riled up to show skin while Alexander tells him about what he has to write and why he shouldn't be going tonight yet still gets ready.

It's all muscle memory except it's really not.

"John," Alexander says at two in the morning, John half asleep on the couch, the TV the only light source in the room. "Why did you- before you remembered, why did you want to be with me?"

John blinks, slowly, yawns, turns to look at Alexander, expression soft, eyes only barely open.

"You're my best friend," John answers easily. "I said I would die for you and I would but hell, I would die for a lot of people. You, you I would stay alive for, want to stay alive for. Not because of who we used to be, but because of who we are now," He stops, pushes his hair back, frowns at Alexander. "Am I making any sense?"

"You are," Alexander answers, leans in to kiss him.

**Author's Note:**

> fic 1: ham/herc/laf/john  
> fic 2: ham/laf/john  
> fic 3: ham/john  
> my 4th fic is just gonna be ham/ham. alexander falls in love with himself
> 
> for more lame tweets like this ^ follow me @ [tadaffodil](https://twitter.com/tadaffodil) or don't. whatever. i'm chill.
> 
> title from Jet Pack Blues by fob btw which kind of fits with the fic but not quite


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